The Desk
by charlieboy
Summary: A.J. decides he wants an antique desk for his home, placing a bid on a couple of desks, he wins one of them.  Both A.J. and Rick find that this is more than a desk, that it is a portal to the past, which holds a mystery.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: These characters do not belong to me.**

**Chapter 1**

**The Winner!**

The young woman tapped her pen on the blotter as she listened to the phone ring on the other end. She glanced at the clock. _Come on, this is the last call of the day. Please answer!_

Sighing, she looked at the clock again. _Ten to six. Reservation is at 6:45, twenty minutes to get there. I wonder if they will hold the table? _She bit her lip. Looking down at the information on the sheet. _A.J.? _She frowned. _Alex? Alfred? Amos? _

"Rick! Rick could you _please_ answer the phone?" A.J.'s annoyed voice drifted down the stairs.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Rick turned down the volume on the television before walking over to the phone. "Hello?" He growled into the voice piece, as he sat down on the bar stool.

Her handset was half way to the cradle when she heard his voice. She quickly brought it back up to her ear. "Hello? Hello, Mr. Simon?"

Hearing the young female voice, he quickly glanced around the room. "Yes, this is Mr. Simon."

"This is Kendall Warren, from 'Oaks Old Furniture'. I'm calling to let you know that you have won the auction. It is the the Secretary from France." She paused a moment. Not hearing a response right away, she cleared her throat. "Mr. Simon?"

Rick had pulled the phone from his ear, staring at it a minute. Placing it back to his ear, "Ah, I won a French secretary?"

"Not just an antique secretary desk, but one that dates back to Louis XIII!" Hearing another pause, Kendall bit her bottom lip. "Is _this _A.J. Simon?"

"Who's on the phone?" A.J. strolled into the kitchen, freshly showered and groomed, opening the fridge, he picked out a beer. Shutting the door he looked at his brother. "Well?"

Rick held the handset to his chest. "Do you know a Kendall Warren?"

Without responding, A.J. snatched the handset from Rick. "Kendall! Kendall, how are you doing?" Rick opened A.J.'s beer and took a swallow. He stepped back, letting A.J.'s swipe at him hit empty air.

She furrowed her brow. "Who is this?"

"A.J. Simon." He turned, glaring at his older brother.

Puzzled, Kendall pursed her lips. "Then who was I speaking to?"'

"My brother. How can I help you?" A.J. took another swing at Rick, this time hitting his target. He grinned as he watched Rick rub his arm.

"I'm calling to let you know you won the auction." She paused a moment. _Allen? Adam? _ His voice broke through her thoughts.

"Really? Which one,? I was bidding on two different desks. One was the Davenport Secretary and the other was a marble top secretary with a drop down front." He waited as he heard pages being turned.

"I didn't realize that. It would be the marble top secretary for five hundred and twenty-five. The other went for fifteen hundred."

A.J.'s eyebrows shot up in surprise "Why such a big difference?"

Kendall smiled into the phone, she loved this part of the job, talking about furniture. "As with any auction, if the people aren't bidding, the prices aren't high. I also feel that it is the difference between American made and European made. The one you won was made in France, it is about the same age as the other, but, the draw was to the American made."

She waited for his response, she could hear his breathing across the line. The warmth of his voice came over the line. "Do you know who owned it?"

Quickly flipping through the pages her eyes caught a name. "Peterson, a Wendell Peterson was one of the previous owner. From the papers, he inherited it from his grandmother on his father's side." She paused. "Mr. Simon? This information will provided to you upon payment." Realizing that she might have sounded rude, she stopped for a moment, hoping he hadn't heard her impatience. _Abel? Abbot? Allen? Alan?_

Andrew sat down on one of the bar stools. "I'm just curious." Wishing that the conversation wouldn't end, he hoped that comment would beckoned her to continue.

"I'm sorry Mr. Simon, I didn't mean to be rude. I have a reservation and I'm not sure if they'll hold it for me." She bit her lip again, hoping he understood. _Aaron? Arnold?_

He smiled into the phone. "I understand. I apologize for keeping you. When may I pick it up?"

"Let's see." She looked at her calendar. "Tomorrow, or Monday." _Angus? Albert? Andy? _"If you pickup tomorrow, we won't be near as busy, and I can almost guarantee that you will have help loading it."

"Will you be there?" He used his warm sexy voice again.

Kendall could feel her face heat up and a tingle run down her spine. "Mr. Simon, are you flirting with me?"

A.J. chuckled. "Call me Andrew. Well?"

_Yes! He sounds like an Andrew._ She skewered her lips. _What does he look like? _ She tried to picture what the man behind the deep voice looked like. Her thoughts were broken through by the sound of her name.

"Kendall? Kendall, are you still there?" A slightly confused A.J. thought that the call had been dropped.

"Yes, sorry." Suddenly feeling embarrassed, she just wanted to get off the phone. "I'll be here until noon."

"I'll see you tomorrow morning."

She could feel his smile through the phone. "I'll be here." Hanging up, she glanced at the clock. It was already 15 minutes after the hour. Grabbing her purse she headed out the door, quickly locking it, she disappeared into the darkness towards her car.

**A/N: To be continued.**


	2. She Wrote Him A Letter

**A/N: These are not my characters. Please take the time and let me know what you think!**

Chapter 2

She Wrote Him A Letter

Kendall yawned as flipped through the newspaper. Taking a sip of her coffee, she heard the bells jingled as someone entered the showroom. Hearing the footsteps weave through the path with furniture on either side of it, she began folding the newspaper. A few moments later, two men appeared in front of Kendall's desk. She leaned back in her chair, taking another sip of coffee. She smiled as she studied them. "Good morning gentlemen." She stood up, extending her hand. "I'm Kendall Warren."

Rick was the first to respond. "I'm Rick Simon."

"Ah, the voice." She smiled, shaking his hand.

Rick grinned. "I've been called a lot of things, but, that's not one of them."

Kendall released his hand smiling shyly. "Sorry. You do have a very distinctive voice."

Frowning, A.J. stepped around his brother, who tried to push him back behind him. "Excuse me, _Rick_." AJ. pushed him aside. He gave her a wide smile. "I'm A.J."

_So you're Andrew. _Kendall extended her hand. "A pleasure to meet you."

A.J. lightly took her hand. "The pleasure is all mine." She felt her face flush.

Rick rolled his eyes. "Aren't we here about the desk?" His annoyed voice broke through their gaze.

A.J. reluctantly released her hand, glaring at Rick. "Ah, right. Desk, where is the desk?"

Kendall nodded. "Follow me." She led the way through a maze of made up of amoires, dressers, buffet tables, roll top desks and an assortment of head board and foot boards. She came to a stop in front of a narrow, tall dresser. She turned towards the Simon brothers. "This is it."

A.J. moved towards the dresser. Kendall stepped back next to Rick, watching the younger brother as he inspected the piece of furniture. A.J. ran his hand over the marble top. "Nice. Level." Carefully pulling the door down, he checked the leather blotter on the writing area. "Wood?"

"Mahogany."

Pulling doors open, he viewed the drawers and cubby holes. He looked over his shoulder. "Any hidden drawers?"

Flipping through the papers on the clip board, Kendall shook her head. "Nothing in the papers stating that."

Rick reached for the papers. "May I?" She handed them to him. He began flipping through the papers. He began mumbling, "Inlaid exterior, dates around Louis XIII to Louis XVI." He paused. "That's a lot of Louis." A.J. grimaced at the attempted joke.

Closing the last drawer, A.J. stood up. Kendall took the clip board from Rick. "Do you find the Secretary satisfactory, Mr. Simon."

A. J. flashed a smile. "More than I expected."

Ms. Warren nodded. "It is an excellent piece. Shall we fill out the paperwork?"

* * *

><p>Pushing the last drawer in to the unit, A.J. stepped back to admire his new acquisition. Rick stretched out on the couch. "Are you going to stand there all day looking at that thing?"<p>

Andrew smiled. "It's a piece of history, Rick. It survived over 150 years."

In response, he rolled his eyes, pulling his hat down over his eyes. Seeing his disinterest, Andrew left the room. Just as Rick was about to doze off, he heard a soft sound, he held his breath a moment to listen. Hearing nothing else, he turned on his side and dozed off.

What felt like only moments, Rick was awaken by his brother shaking him. "Rick! Rick, wake up!"

"What?" The older Simon slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes.

A.J. walked over to the desk. "Why did you leave it open?" His voice was accusatory.

"Open? I didn't open it." He stood up and stretched. He went over to look at the desk, running his hand along the sides of it. "It doesn't seem to be hurt." He lifted the panel, and found the tension to be where it would not fall open, he lowered it again. He cocked his head. "I do remember a sound just as was falling asleep."

His brother scoffed. "Oh sure, and eight tiny reindeers." A.J. turned towards Rick. "Look, I don't mind you looking, but don't leave it open." As he started to lift the door back up, he noticed one of the drawers was slightly ajar. Andrew glared at his brother, as he tried to shove the drawer back in. "Huh, it doesn't seem to want to go in." He attempted to jiggle the drawer back in, finally pulling it out, he looked inside. "Hello." Plucking a small light ivory envelope out of the drawer, he easily slid it back into its slot.

Rick look over his brother's shoulder. "I thought you opened all the drawers down at the store."

A.J. absently waved him away as he carefully opened the envelope. "I must of over-looked that particular drawer". He mumbled. Quietly, he pulled out a single piece of paper and began to unfold it.

Rick took the envelope from his brother. Flipping it over in his hands, he noted nothing unusual about. There was no writing on it, he lifted it to his nose and sniffed. "It smells of lilac."

A.J. sniffed the paper. "Here too. Listen to this." Andrew cleared his throat.

_Dear Detective Mosely,_

_I read in the newspaper that the coroner was going_

_to rule my husband's death a suicide. Please, detective,_

_I beg of you, do not let this travesty of injustice happen._

_He would never commit suicide. He was so looking _

_forward to the birth of our first child. My husband deserves _

_more than that._

_Sincerely, Mrs. Stephen Dresdan_

A low whistle escaped Rick's lips. A.J. handed the letter to Rick. "No date, no address, nothing. What do you think of it?" A.J. watched his brother as he read the letter.

Rick shook his head. "I have never heard of Detective Mosely. Maybe Lt. Brown knows him?"

A.J. looked at the desk. "No date, no address, Mrs. Stephen Dresdan. When was the last time you heard a woman go by her husband's first and last name?"

The elder Simon's eye brows shot up. "Oh hey now. You aren't thinking?" Rick looked uneasily at the desk.

**A/N: To be continued.**


	3. Getting Help

**A/N: Sorry it has taken me so long to submit another chapter! These characters are still not mine. Enjoy!**

Chapter 3

Getting Help

Lt. Brown shook his head. "No, never heard of a Detective Mosely. Why?" Brown looked across his desk at the Simon brothers.

Rick and A.J. looked at each other. A.J. began. "I found a letter in an antique desk that I bought this last weekend."

Brown shrugged. "So?"

Andrew continued. "About a murder."

Marcel Brown leaned forward looking somewhat interested. "A confession?"

Rick shook his head. "No, no more of a begging." He paused, seeing that Downtown Brown looked even more confused, Rick continued. "From Dresdan's wife for Detective Mosely _not_ to let the case be considered a suicide."

Brown sat back in his chair. "Wait a minute. You found a letter in some old desk, and now you want me to get involved?"

The brothers looked at Brown and answered simultaneously. "Well, yeah!"

The Lt. Stood. "I appreciate you two stopping by, but now I have some real police work to do." He quickly ushered them out of his office and firmly shut the door.

* * *

><p>A.J. was sitting on the corner of Janet's desk, while Rick sat on the slightly overstuffed couch. She was sitting back in her chair, partly listening to him as she read the hand written letter. She tossed it on her desk. "Nice penmanship." She looked over towards Rick. "I know it's not A.J.'s, and I doubt it could be yours." Rick shook his head in agreement.<p>

"What do you want me to do?" She looked from one brother to the other.

"Well, I thought working in the Prosecutors Office, you would have access to old files." A.J. paused, knowing he was asking a lot of his friend.

Janet bit her lip in thought. "How old is this desk?"

"Maybe 150 years old." Andrew detected her curiosity.

"Weird, huh?" Rick was now standing next to A.J., slightly surprised that that Janet was showing interest.

Jotting down some notes, Janet handed the letter back to A.J. "I'm not promising that I'll be able to find anything, and I am not promising that I'll be able to do anything right away, but."

A.J.'s brow shot up. "But what?"

She smiled. "But, this has my interest."

* * *

><p>Throwing his keys on his counter, A.J. open the fridge and grabbed a beer. He held it up, Rick took it. Pulling another from the pack, he closed the door and stood up. "Well, no immediate answers, but, knowing Janet, I wouldn't be surprised." He stopped abruptly, looking past his brother he felt a chill run up his spine.<p>

Rick took a swallow, waiting for his brother to finish the sentence. Slightly becoming annoyed, Rick growled, "Surprised at what?"

Instead of a verbal answer, A.J. pointed towards the living room. Rick turned. There, in the corner was the desk, the desk was open. Slowly walking over to the desk standing in front of it, the same drawer was slightly ajar. Rick pointed. "Ah, you've got mail."

A.J. nudged him with his shoulder. "Your older."

Rick shook his head. "Your desk."

Sighing, Andrew stepped forward and opened the drawer. Reaching in, he pulled out the same color envelope as before. No writing was on the exterior. He put the envelope to his nose and inhaled. The same lilac fragrance greeted his nose. Rick was carefully watched his brother. "Same scent?"

A.J. nodded. He slowly opened it, pulling out the letter. He began reading her letter out loud.

_My dear detective,_

_Please, please tell me that you_

_have not forgotten us, or that you _

_have put this case on the shelf. _

_I know this will not bring _

_back my husband, but, I will _

_be able to tell our child that he _

_did not willingly abandoned us. _

_Please, please respond and let_

_me know your answer!_

_Mrs. Stephen Dresdan_

A.J. handed Rick the letter. Pursing his lips, he went to his room, shortly returning with several sheets of paper and an envelope. Rick watched him. "What are you planning to do?"

"I am going to send Mrs. Stephen Dresdan a letter." Grabbing a chair from the dining room, he placed it in front of the desk.

Rick took a seat on arm of the couch to watch. "Ah, how are you going to send it?"

Turning slightly in his chair, A.J. mulled it over for a moment. "The same way we've got hers. You want to help?"

"Yeah, sure." Rick pulled up a chair next to him. "Where do we start?"

"Well, Dear Mrs. Stephen Dresdan." A.J. began writing.

Rick rolled his eyes. "No, I mean, what are we going to ask or say? We don't know this detective Mosely fellow, or how far he had gotten with the case. We don't know the basics about this case!"

A.J. nodded. "A few questions might be in order." He poised the pen above the paper. Taking a deep breath, he began writing.

_My dear Mrs. Stephen Dresdan,_

_We are in receipt of your letter._

A.J. stopped. "Should I say 'we'? I mean, before we, I explain who we are?"

Rick rubbed his chin. "You could say that detective Mosely hired us to help him, and he is currently unavailable to answer any questions. Not quite a lie."

Cocking his head, Andrew looked at his brother. "It bothers you to lie to her? We don't even know her."

"Well, she is in a delicate situation." Rick mumbled.

"Okay then." A.J. pulled a fresh sheet of paper from under the first and started again.

_My dear Mrs. Stephen Dresdan,_

_Detective Mosely hired my brother and I a short _

_time ago. We own a small detective service._

_Unfortunately, he was called away on a_

_family emergency, leaving us to work on_

_this case._

Rick grinned. "That's good. I think she'll buy that."

Andrew looked at him with disbelief. "Rick, do you really believe she will receive this?"

"Yeah, why not? We received hers." His voice was confident.

A.J. nodded, taking a thoughtful moment before he began again.

_We are unable to reach him at this moment,_

_and we need some information. _

A.J. stopped. "What can we ask her that won't make us sound..."

"Like we just stepped off the plane?"

"Exactly." Andrew thoughtfully tapped his chin with his pen.

"How about, we tell her that we need more basic background information about her husband's death." Rick looked over A.J.'s shoulder as he finished the letter. Reading it one last time, both were in agreement that providing much more information about themselves could scare her off.

Sealing the envelope, A.J. tucked it in the drawer that the two letters from her were found. He closed up the desk. Andrew folded his arms in front of him. "I wonder how long it will take."

"Well, you know what they say about a watched pot." Rick turned towards the kitchen. A.J. took a step to follow him, stopping short when he heard the soft sound of wood against wood coming from the inside of the desk.

A.J. pushed against Rick's back moving him towards the back door. Both men quickly left the house without looking back.

**To be continued. **

**Let me know what you think of this story, and if you think I am going in the right direction!**

**Thanks!**


	4. Help From Friends

**A/N: Not mine! Please remember to leave a review.**

Chapter 4

Help From Friends

Janet leaned back in her chair as she listened to their story. "And this is the second letter?" She looked at the back side of it, handing it back to A.J. "You think there might be another letter in the desk?"

"Well, no. We think that she received delivery of our letter earlier today." A.J. folded the letter and returned it to its envelope.

She narrowed her eyes staring at them. "Have you two been drinking?" Her voice was demanding.

"Not yet." Rick stopped his pacing to give her his utmost serious look.

"Look, Janet." Andrew paused, looking at Rick, who nodded. "We did an experiment this morning. We wrote a letter and put it in the desk and within five minutes there was a noise coming from the desk." His voice was husky and unwavering.

As much as she wanted to doubt him, the sincerity of his voice convinced her. She bit her bottom lip. "Okay, let's say I believe you." A.J. exhaled the breath he had been holding, feeling some relief. She continued. "How long will it take her to answer you?"

"We don't know, this is the first time we have written her." Rick looked at her earnestly.

Janet shuffled some papers on her desk, pulling a stained old thin manilla folder from the bottom of the small pile. She opened it. "There was a Stephen Dresdan."

"Was?" Rick choked out the word as he sunk down in a chair across from Janet's desk.

She nodded. "According to the report, he was 32 years old when he died." Handing the folder to A.J., he skimmed the papers from the police report.

"Well?" Rick's impatience was growing.

"It says," A.J. paused his pacing. "That the year is 1948."

Rick sank back into his chair. "1948? This isn't just a cold case, it's frozen."

Andrew continued. "His wife, Laura Dresdan, was five months pregnant at the time of his death." A.J. closed the folder. "They ruled it as a suicide."

* * *

><p>A.J. quietly entered his home, with Rick closely behind him. Stopping in the kitchen, with the bar between them and the living room, the looked over towards the desk, which was once again open. Rick gently nudged A.J. towards the end of the bar. The younger Simon dug his heels in. "Rick!"<p>

His brother let up, laughing nervously. A.J. shoved him back. Taking a deep breath, he looked at his older brother and nodded. Walking over to the desk, he opened the drawer and pulled out the envelope. He handed it to Rick. "Your turn."

Rick accepted it, putting it to his nose. "Lilac." Taking his knife, he quickly slit it open. Unfolding the letter, he noted that it was in the same handwriting. He began reading out loud.

_Dear Mr. Simon and Simon,_

_I am sorry to hear about detective_

_Mosely's family misfortune. _

_My husband was an honest man._

_He worked at the Binder and Lindel_

_Auto Lot as their accountant. He had_

_worked for them for over seven years._

_He enjoyed his job, but two months _

_before his death, he was distressed_

_about something. He would not _

_confide in me what was wrong. He_

_was suppose to meet with someone _

_the night of his death._

_I hope this helps. If more information_

_is needed, please do not hesitate to_

_write. _

_My best wishes to detective_

_Mosely and his family._

_Mrs. Stephen Dresdan_

Rick handed the letter to A.J. Walking to the bar, he pulled a phone book out from the drawer. "I don't recall a Binder and Lindel Auto Lot." He flipped the book open. A.J. disappeared down the hall towards his study. Moments later, he reappeared with several sheets of paper. Rick looked up at his brother. "What's that?"

"The papers that came with the desk." A.J. furrowed his brow as he flipped through the pages.

"Didn't Kendall Warren say that the desk belong to Wendell Peterson?"

"Yeah, but, ah!" Andrew grinned. "Wendell Peterson inherited it from his grandmother on his father side, and then passed it on to his only child, Laura." He looked up, feeling quite triumphant.

"Okay, so one of the previous owners was a woman named Laura, but that might have been a pretty common name back then." Rick's skepticism caused A.J. to frown. Running his finger down the list in the phone book he stopped two thirds of the way down. "Lindel's Auto Plex". Rick tapped the page with his index finger. "Same Lindel?

A.J. sat down at the desk. "Probably not, that would have been, what? Forty-one years ago? He would be an old man by now. Maybe his son, or grandson?" Pulling a blank piece of paper from a drawer, he looked at his brother thoughtfully. "I wonder what had Stephen so upset."

"Well, he was an accountant. Maybe he was embezzling?" Rick cocked his head in thought.

A.J. shook his head in disagreement. "No Rick, I believe Laura, and she says he was honest."

"Come on A.J., she didn't even know what he was upset about! He could have been stealing the company blind for all she knew!" Rick's jaw tightened as he prepared to argue about this with his younger brother.

Seeing his jaw tighten, Andrew quickly changed the subject. "Do we need to respond?"

Before Rick could answer, the back door bell rang. He answered the door. "Lt. Brown, come on in."

Stepping aside, Brown walked in. He glanced over at A.J. and then back at Rick, noting a slight tension in the room. "Ah, did I interrupt something?"

A.J. stood up. "We were just having a discussion." He walked over and handed the letter to the Lt.

"Some discussion." He accepted the letter. After reading it, the brothers explained how it 'appeared'. Lt. Brown shook his head. "The reason I came over was to talk to you two about Detective Mosely."

A.J. grinned. "So, you did believe us!"

M.P. Brown shook his head adamantly. "No. But I got a call from Janet, and she persuaded me to do some research. What I found was that there was actually a Detective Mosely, and he was on his own time, checking on a few things concerning this case. I thought I owed you that much." He paused a moment, looking somewhat dejected. "Hey, don't you usually offer company a beer or something?"

Rick quickly retrieved three beers from he fridge, giving one to Brown and A.J. "And?"

Taking a swallow, Brown sighed contentedly. "And, whatever he found is probably in some box stored away in a relative''s attic."

A.J. set his beer on the counter, his voice was quiet. "What happened to Mosely?"

His face turned somber. "It seems that after three months on this case, Detective Mosely met an untimely end." Brown took another sip of beer before setting the bottle on the counter. "He was heading to San Francisco to interview someone about this case when his brakes failed near Westport."

"No idea of who he was going to see?" Rick tried to sound hopeful.

Brown shook his head. "None. Like I said, if you can locate his son, you might have a chance with this case." He paused, looking over towards the desk. "Is _that_ the infamous desk?" He walked over towards it.

Andrew nodded. "That's it."

"Huh. Looks pretty harmless." Brown stopped within three feet of the desk, not quite sure if he wanted to get any closer. "Can you make it do something?"

Rick snorted. "Brown, it's not a trained dog."

Brown glanced back at him. "Probably better trained than Marlowe."

"Hey, Marlowe's trained!" Rick's objection caused Brown to roll his eyes. "Yeah, right."

A.J. walked past Brown and sat down at the desk. "We were just about to compose a letter." Turning slightly towards Brown and his brother, he asked, "Would you care to help?"

The Lt. raised his brows. "Yeah?" Brown gingerly moved forward, then stepped back.

Rick grinned, stepping beside M.P, giving him a shove with his shoulder. "Come on Brown, it isn't going to bite you. And if it does, you can shoot it."

"No he may not!" A.J. growled at his brother. "I just got this desk, and I don't want bullet holes in it." Andrew cleared his throat. "What do we want to ask?"

Rick cocked his head in thought. "How about we tell her that Lt. Brown is now on the case with us."

A.J. began writing. "Anything else?"

"Yeah." The brothers looked at Brown and waited. "How about we ask for a recent photo of her husband?"

Nodding, A.J. jotted it down on the paper. "That should do it." With that, he folded the piece of paper and placed it in the envelope. Placing it in the drawer, he stood up and began walking away from the desk.

Rick shook his head. "Wait a minute. The last time we sent a letter, we closed the desk up."

"Right. And when she sent one, the desk was down." A.J. carefully closed the desk.

Brown looked at the desk. "How will you know when she picks it up?"

Before either brother could answer, there was a sound from the inside of the desk. A.J. grinned. "She just picked it up." He turned to look at Lt. Brown, but found that he had already left the room.

**A/N: To be continued.**


	5. It's All Relative

**A/N: Not mine, yet!**

Chapter 5

It's All Relative

"Well, he's asked me to call and give you the message." Janet's voice held a small amount annoyance with the taller Simon brother. "I came over because, because I was a little curious about the desk." She hated admitting the truth, especially to Rick Simon, but she decided it was better to just admit it and get it out of the way, otherwise, he would be constantly bugging her about it.

Rick grinned. "And why didn't Brown come down here himself?"

Janet hated it, he already looked like the cat that ate the canary. Instead of responding to his question, Janet turned towards Andrew.

Andrew knew Rick had pushed her to her limit. "What did Brown have to say?" His voice was soft, encouraging her not to pay attention to Rick.

"Detective Mosely did have a son. In fact," Janet paused, relieved that A.J. stepped in. "he lives in San Diego."

He abruptly sat up in his chair. "Does he know where?"

She chuckled. "Come on A.J., he _is_ a Lt. in the San Diego Police Department." She handed him a piece of paper.

A.J. looked at the paper. "About an hour from here." He looked over at Rick and then Janet. He found her staring in the direction of the desk. "We sent a letter a few hours ago, but haven't heard back from her yet." His voice held some disappointment.

"So, she's not consistent with her responses?" Janet sounded surprise.

"I don't think a ghost has a watch." The graveling voice of Rick Simon caused Janet to straighten her shoulders.

Laughing hollowly, Janet took a step towards the desk. "Ghost? Come on guys!"

"Well, maybe ghost isn't the correct term, but whatever she is, she eventually will respond." A.J. was trying to head off the argument that was bound to come between the two of them.

* * *

><p>Standing in front of the large oak door, Rick pressed the door bell. They could hear it echo throughout the house. The door finally opened. Behind the glass door stood a man in his early fifties. "Yes?" He asked without opening the door.<p>

A.J. smiled. "Mr. Mosely?"

The man nodded. "And you are?"

"I'm Rick Simon, and this is my brother, A.J. Simon of Simon and Simon Detective Agency." Rick spoke, wishing the man would open the door.

As if reading Rick's mind, he opened the door. "Come on in." Standing in the foyer, Mr. Mosely shook their hands. "Have the police decided to reopen the case?" His voice sounded hopeful.

Rick glanced at A.J. before speaking. "What case?" He tried to keep his voice level.

Mr. Mosely moved to what would be considered the 'great room'. He motioned for the brothers to sit, while he took a seat in an over stuffed chair. Slowly drawing a pipe out from inside his cardigan, he filled it thoughtfully. "So, you're not here to look into my father's death?"

A.J. cleared his voice. "Well, no, not directly, but the case we are looking into is related."

Lighting the pipe, Mosely drew in on the pipe, slowly exhaling smoke. He set the pipe down in a stand on a table near his chair. "Then, what is the case you are investigating?" He peered at the Simon brothers a moment, he raised his eyebrows in surprise. "You're investigating the Dresdan case?"

Rick nodded. "We were hoping that we could get information from you concerning your father's investigation into Dresdan's death."

"Mr. Mosely, we believe that not only your father, but also Mr. Dresdan were murdered, and their deaths are connected. We're hoping you have kept some of your father's papers concerning this case." A.J. sat back in his chair waiting for Mosely to answer.

"It could work out that if we solve one murder, the other..." Rick leaned forward in his chair, hoping that such a promise might work in their favor. A.J. shot his brother a warning, not to promise any more than what he already had.

"Miles." A small smile came across the old man's face.

Rick furrowed his brow. "Miles? Miles to what?"

Mosely shook his head, slightly bemused at the elder Simon's confusion. "Call me Miles."

The Simon brothers smiled simultaneously. Miles continued. "I do have my father's papers. I have been through them several times over the years, trying to figure out what had happened. When he died, I was only 9 years old. My mother, she tried to hide what had happened, but I was young, and needed answers." Miles looked at his visitors, "Haven't you ever lost anyone, and it hurt so much, that you could not ask questions, or look for the answers?" Both Rick and A.J. silently nodded in agreement.

* * *

><p>Balancing the box between himself and the door, A.J. unlocked it, pushed it opened and grabbed the box before it fell. Rick followed behind him, carrying another box and a paper bag. "I can't believe our luck! " Setting the box and bag on the table he glanced over towards A.J. His smile faded, the desk was once again open. He noted that his brother was frozen.<p>

"I'll get it." Rick moved to step around A.J.

A.J. stuck his arm out, blocking Rick. "No. I'll do it. It's, it's my turn." With that, he walked over, gingerly opening the drawer. He pulled an envelope out. Sitting down at the desk, he opened the envelope, pulling a photo out. Handing the photo to Rick, A.J. pulled out the letter. He began reading the letter out loud.

_Dear Simon and Simon,_

_Enclosed is a recent photo of my husband._

_I am delighted to hear that Lt. Brown is now_

_on the case._

A.J. paused a moment, looking over at Rick. Rick furrowed his brow. "What's wrong?"

"Listen to this." He continued.

_Is it true? Is Detective Mosely dead?_

_Was it an accident? _

_Please, please give his wife and child_

_my condolences._

_Sincerely,_

_Mrs. Stephen Dresdan_

A chill went down Rick's spine. "What was the date that Mosely died?" He began to dig through the bag. Stopping when he found what he was looking for. He emitted a low whistle. "He died exactly forty-three years ago today. "It's indicating accidental. Signed by a Dr. Baggs."

Rick handed the death certificate to his brother to examine. A.J. glanced at his brother. "Should we send it to her?"

The elder Simon shook his head. "We have nothing to gain from that, and in her condition..." Andrew nodded in agreement, as he began pushing the desk closed. "Wait A.J.!" Rick's command stopped him.

"What?" Holding the desk door halfway to closing.

"The only time we receive a letter is when we close the desk. Until we have more questions to ask, or further information to share with her, let's keep the desk open."

A.J. carefully lowered the desk door. "Do you think it makes times stand still for her?"

Rick tilted his head in thought. "I don't know. I do know the one time we did close it without answering, she was frustrated."

"Listen to us! Her 'condition', her 'frustration', we are giving this, this entity feelings and physical attributes." A.J. paused, running his hand through his hair, he looked at Rick. "Just what did happen to Laura Dresdan and her baby?"

**A/N: I thought this would be a great place to stop! LOL Please remember to leave a review!**


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